Clark Kent and the Deathly Hellos
by oksofia
Summary: Bruce and Clark run into each other at the Harry Potter premiere...and it's awkward. Not slash!


**AN: **This story was inspired by one of planet_lois's tweets: _Clark has drawn a ridiculous looking scar over his eye and is waving his pen. This is why we don't let him go to the movies._

SO ADORABLE! And what is an adorable Clark without a grumpy Bruce? Kind of a crackfic, not beta-read, but I made a conscious effort to keep everyone in character. And disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to DC comics!

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><p><strong>CLARK KENT AND THE DEATHLY HELLOS<strong>

It was almost morbid the number of times that the phrase _I'm going to kill Alfred_ flashed through Bruce's mind over the course of a week, as the man had singlehandedly raised him for the last thirty years. Granted, being the guardian/butler/driver/doctor/tailor/cook/social secretary to a moody, stubborn man-child like him couldn't have been an easy task. Which was probably why he did things like this every once in a while – no, _often_ – to Bruce. Alfred must be silently laughing to himself over the fact that Brucie Wayne, Gotham's most scandal-prone bachelor, featured in the tabloids *just last week* for purportedly being kicked out of an exclusive underground orgy for being _too degenerate_, was now walking out of the midnight showing of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II" with his date sniffling on his arm. _Harry Potter_.

_Yup_, Bruce thought to himself, _I'm going to kill Alfred_.

Although… with the media being obsessed with the Harry Potter franchise there would be plenty of coverage of the premier of the final movie. Especially after the show, they would be lined up outside of the theater for those pungent little sound bites about how much the movie changed the audience's lives. Put tabloid darling Bruce Wayne in this kind of overripe media melee and there was bound to be an explosion of speculation and flashbulbs and _sales_. So he couldn't really fault Alfred for anything other than having a perverse sense of humor.

And the girl on his arm – Candy Vasquez – was another one of Alfred's masterstrokes. Candy had recently exploded onto the Gotham social scene – she had quite literally exploded, when she fell into a hefty settlement after a 4th of July fireworks display by a well-known department store malfunctioned and exploded in her house. Bruce Wayne preying on a pretty girl with a thirst for fame and lots of money to spare meant that he'd be featured alongside at least the Kardashians on E! News this week.

So all in all, Bruce decided that if he continued to grit his teeth behind his dazed smile he just *might* be able to make it through the night coming out ahead –

Until he saw _him_.

_He_ was standing a few yards away, all six-feet-three-inches of him, his shoulders slightly slumped, his hair inexpertly slicked back with a little too much gel, his hands jammed into his chinos and jutting out of an '80s-reminiscent windbreaker with _Team-Building '97!_ embroidered on the back. As if he *sensed* Bruce drilling holes into the back of his head, _he_ turned ever-so-slightly, revealing the profile of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched neatly on his face.

Bruce sensed the inevitable fading away of his dazed smile into an expression that was decidedly _not_ relaxed. It was the irritating effect that Clark had on him.

Clark must have realized that he was not welcome (as he absolutely was not), because he stood oddly still where he was. Bruce was going to use this moment to firmly nudge Candy in the direction of the exit when he saw a much shorter head pop out from behind Clark and wave at him excitedly. "BRUCE!" it called.

He was in HIS city. With HIS Tim. That did it.

Tim's excited outburst also caught Candy's attention. "Isn't that your son Tim?" she squealed, "Let's say hi!"

It just made Bruce angrier to see how apologetic Clark looked as they walked towards each other. Quick introductions were made.

"Well, I'll just say it – you're the *last* person I expected to find here, Bruce," Tim joked with a wink. Bruce cursed himself for not planning for something like this. The Batman, watching Harry Potter (and a midnight showing no less)? Tim would never let him hear the end of it.

"Candy's a fan," he replied smoothly.

"I just LOVE Harry Potter," confirmed Candy with a sigh, "I pretty much grew up with him, ya know?"

"Oh, I _know_, me too, me too," Tim agreed, "What about you, Bruce?"

Bruce colored slightly at this dig, but pretended not to notice the furtive glance Clark gave him. "How'd you like the movie?" he asked in order to change the subject.

"Haven't seen it yet," replied Clark as he pushed up his glasses (was it Bruce's imagination or were the frames… _rounder_?), "Our tickets are for the three a.m. showing. Tim and I are out here getting popcorn."

"Yeah, I guess we weren't VIP enough to get tickets for so many people for the midnight screening," Tim shrugged, "so we're doing the next best thing instead."

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "How many of you are there?"

Tim held out his fingers and began counting them off: "Me, Clark, Dick, Babs, Ollie, Dinah, Helena, Kara, Jimmy Ol—"

Ever the new-money networker, Candy's eyes widened at one particular on the guest list. "Ollie Queen is here? I should really go say hi!"

"Allow me." Tim offered her his arm, which she graciously accepted, and they headed over to the theater. As soon as they were gone, Clark leaned forward; eyes sparkling, he asked, "So you're a secret Harry Potter fan, Bruce?"

"NO." The smooth socialite vanished before his victim could react and in _Batman's_ voice Bruce demanded, "This isn't something you could have done in Metropolis?"

Clark visibly gulped. "No! Tickets are sold out until noon tomorrow. I had to call in a favor. Why do you think I'm here with Oliver? We never spend time together socially."

"Any reason why this couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Now Clark looked affronted. "I know Gotham is your city, but seriously, Bruce, it's the LAST Harry Potter movie! I *had* to see this tonight! I've been waiting for it for over a year now!"

Well, he hadn't been expecting to hear _that_. He narrowed his eyes to distract himself from his surprise. "Clark, you're nearly forty. Even if you have been a fan of the franchise from the very beginning, that would have made you a master's student at Metropolis University when you started with your…enthusiasm for this _children's_ book."

"Oh, you're never too old for magic," sighed Clark.

"I'll hold you to that next time Mxyzptlk comes into town."

"No, not _that_ kind of magic!" Clark cried impatiently without raising his voice, "The _real_ kind of magic – the kind where you can eat Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and play quidditch on flying brooms!"

Bruce blinked, mouth slightly agape. "…Are you *listening* to yourself?"

Clark blushed. "I know I can fly, but…" He scratched the back of his head as he considered something. "Wait, you _really_ don't see the appeal of Harry Potter?"

Actually, Bruce hadn't really thought about it, but he supposed that there _was_ something almost heartwarming about the story of a scrappy young orphan who grew up to avenge his parents' death and save the world… wait – NO. He shook his head to snap out of it.

"Do you want to know the reason why I love Harry Potter?"

"Not really," Bruce muttered.

Clark continued undeterred. "The real reason I love Harry Potter is because it's the story of a scrappy young orphan who grew up to avenge his parents' death and save the world." He looked down at his feet and added softly, "…He's kind of like you, Bruce."

Bruce was taken aback. What could he possibly say to that?

"Harry's parents died protecting him, and because of that, the responsibility to save the world is on his shoulders. He's lonely sometimes because no one can understand exactly what that's like, but he wins when he remembers that he's not alone."

Leave it to Clark to make a movie synopsis sound like a tailor-made pep talk. He'd let the man's undeclared presence in Gotham slide this time; after all, poor Kent was so desperate to see the last Harry Potter that he was spending time with Oliver Queen. His voice warmed just a smidgen. "Not alone, eh?"

Clark grinned. "Nope. I like to think that I'm your Ron Weasley."

"So you're my resentful sidekick?"

"What! That's not Ron—" But when Clark saw that Bruce was yanking his chain (which was a rarity in and of itself, to be fair), he relaxed.

Bruce didn't say anything, and instead held his arm out for Candy, who was back from making her social rounds. She transferred herself from Tim onto Bruce and beamed. "What an exciting night! A date with Bruce Wayne, the last Harry Potter movie, and invite to Oliver Queen's yacht party on Friday – it doesn't get any better than this!"

"It really doesn't!" Brucie repeated enthusiastically, and then mouthed to Clark "_Hermione?"_ as he tilted his head towards his date.

Clark laughed, and Bruce and Candy made their way to the exit. He bought the popcorn, and then took a deep breath as he and Tim headed back into the theater.

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><p>Two days later, Clark found a thick envelope at the door of his apartment. He gave it a quick once-over with his x-ray vision to make sure that it was safe, and when he saw that it was, he unfastened it. Inside was a DVD case. Carefully, he slid it out and opened it.<p>

The disc inside was unmarked except for the inscription "_To Ron_" scribbled onto it with a permanent marker. In disbelief, Clark dashed over to his DVD player and slid it in. His mouth fell open as the opening scenes of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II" played onscreen.

Using his celebrity in order to benefit his friends was something that Harry Potter would do. But Clark kept this thought to himself. Bruce probably knew that already anyway.


End file.
